


To Hell and Back

by manicmidnight



Series: Praying for the Wicked [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Asphyxiation, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark, Feral Behavior, Gun Violence, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Theo Raeken, I hope, Insecurity, Kinda, M/M, Minor Character Death, Oblivious Liam Dunbar, Panic Attacks, Paranoia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reckless Behavior, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Theo Raeken Needs a Hug, Theo Raeken-centric, Wolf Theo, You know these tags are starting to get progressively more depressing eh, at times - Freeform, not really much of an angst writer tho so it's probably not too bad!!, not yet anyway, oh well?, that was close i can't believe i nearly forgot that, the tags make this sound pretty angsty don't they
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-16 15:33:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14814081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manicmidnight/pseuds/manicmidnight
Summary: Theo finds something he shouldn't have.It all goes to Hell from there.





	To Hell and Back

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ruxian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruxian/gifts).



> Dedicated to the cutest Rux out there! Thank you for inspiring this fic-- even though this snowballed real fast. This was supposed to be some good 2K reading pleasure, but now it's just... uh, oops? I hope it doesn't disappoint though!
> 
> Please **heed the tags**. The violence should be nothing more than what's shown in canon, but Theo _does_ have PTSD (though it's minor [and hopefully not inaccurate] in its depiction), so please watch out for that. There is also a brief description of a panic attack-- it's basically pretty serious. If you are triggered by those, and _anything_ else described in the **tags** , please don't read ahead.
> 
> [I apologize in advance if I've written this wrong! I've definitely done my research and have no intention of making light of these disorders, but my inexperience could impair the entire thing, in which case: I'm really sorry!]
> 
> That being said, enjoy!

It’s no secret that Theo likes to mess with Liam.

In his defense, it’s not like Liam ever protests. Well, he does— _of course he does_ —all dramatic flailing and ‘ _shut up_ ’s that don’t really serve any other purpose than making Theo laugh. But, the thing is, Liam fights _back_ , gives as good as he gets, and that’s something Theo can’t help but appreciate.

He’s used to being the one everyone’s wary of, the one whose mere presence has everyone’s hackles rising; and, honestly, he’s embraced the image. It’s better, this way, when no one messes with him, when they’re dead set on just watching him with their judgmental, burning stares.

Alright, so Theo might not be as okay with this as he first thought. It doesn’t matter though, because he’s dealing with it. Like he always has.

He refuses to think of why his mind is stuck on that, though, why everything plays on loop in his head when it. Doesn’t. Matter.

 

_(It does. It matters so, so much, and Theo is more than scared. He’s terrified.)_

 

Sometimes, he wonders why he’s here. There’s nothing left in Beacon Hills anyway, just a broken pack trying to mend itself, people trying to shed off their fear, everyone trying to move on. Trying, trying, _trying_ ; Theo doesn’t need any of that, not when he’s got himself figured out. Trying? It’s useless. Theo doesn’t need to be here, yet his feet remain firmly rooted to the ground. He wonders why.

 

( _He knows why. He’s afraid. He’s always been afraid._ )

 

Liam’s a distraction, a much needed one. Theo wouldn’t go so far as to say he’s _fond_ of him ( _he is_ ) but Liam’s probably the only thing that’s keeping Theo from actually losing his mind. Theo can’t even begin to remember the number of times Liam’s helped him by just _being_ there, even if he never realized he did. Theo… owes Liam a lot for everything. For taking him in with open arms, and honest eyes, for accidentally leaving sweaters and shirts around for lonely nights when Theo needs to breathe in the scent of a Pack he doesn’t have.

 

( _They tell him he’s an ally, and he bites his tongue till it bleeds. Allies aren’t Pack. He’s as alone as he’s ever been._ )

 

Liam also likes to piss Theo off, though. Likes to push and prod at buttons Theo’s never even known he’s had, till Theo loses his cool and gives into the urge to deck him in the face. But, again, Liam gives as good as he gets. Most of the time, their arguments would end up in fist fights, in bruised knuckles and bloody noses. At this point, it only really earns them eye rolls; and, Theo knows it’s probably not healthy, but it _helps_. _Liam_ helps.

And Theo understands that, sometimes, even Liam needs a distraction. He can see it in the desperation of his swings, the wild sparks in the blue of his eyes, the tense curve of his mouth. Theo sees it all, and so, Theo gives.

 

( _It’s a new feeling, being the one giving. Theo sometimes wonders if it’ll ever balance out all that he’s ever taken._

_He knows it never will.)_

 

So, Theo sneaks into Liam’s room, fully intent on… _borrowing_ something. Maybe a couple of books–  or _— wait, even better_ —his lacrosse stick. Liam would probably lose his mind over _that_. He focuses his hearing, trying to glean whether Liam’s come back home yet or not. He knows the Beta’s out with his friends ( _his Pack_ ) so he should have some time to sneak in and out really quick.

Finding the coast to be clear, Theo walks quickly out of his room, taking a deep breath as the tips of his fingers rest against the doorknob.

To be honest, Theo’s never _actually_ gone inside Liam’s room. He’s been tempted to, on multiple occasions, but it feels like that toes the line between… whatever they are, and more. Theo wouldn’t be daft enough to call them _friends_ , but maybe that’s what it is. He’s… never really had friends, so he supposes he wouldn’t know.

He closes his eyes, grits his teeth. Now’s _not_ the time. Theo’s going in.

Fingers clasp the doorknob, and turn. The door swings open easily, as though it’s been waiting for him to open it and – no, that’s a ridiculous thought. Theo’s probably starting to lose his mind. The usual.

Liam’s bedroom is kind of underwhelming. It’s actually a lot less boyish than Theo would’ve imagined, heavily using neutral colors that Theo would expect to find in the rooms of, perhaps, the older Dunbars. Not so much a kid.

“An old soul, then?” He mutters snarkily to himself as he steps over a stray book. Liam’s got that part of the teenage boy aesthetic down; his floor’s literally _strewn_ with papers, objects –even clothes. It takes everything in Theo not to trip with literally every step he takes. “And secretly a pig too.”

He wonders if there’s something better than a lacrosse stick that he can borrow. Something more inconspicuous. He skirts around the biggest pile of clothes he’s ever seen, making his way to Liam’s desk. If he’s not wrong, Liam _seems_ like the type to put something important in his desk drawers—probably because no one would ever look there.

Pulling the first one open, Theo frowns, seeing only a couple of pencils, and a half-opened pack of gum. He slams it shut, quickly trying the other one and, _ah_.

 _Bingo_.

There’s a medium-sized black box in there that’s relatively heavy, Theo notes as he takes the box in hand. He wonders what Liam could possibly have put in there; tiny, embarrassing pictures of himself? A ‘World’s Lamest Dweeb’ mug? Maybe even a mini Trojan Horse or something? Liam has the weirdest obsessions, after all, so Theo wouldn’t put it past him.

And then Theo opens the box.

 

                                                                                                                    

( _and everything comes to a screeching halt_.)

 

 

Theo blinks. Once. Twice. Tries to deny reality, even as it sucker punches him in the gut. This… can’t possibly be what he thinks it is. There’s got to be some other explanation, right?

But it is what it is. And Theo can’t breathe.

_Cold fingers, sliding around his ankle—_

He needs—

_Sour-smelling breath, ghosting over his neck—_

H-He needs—

_The whisper of his name, slithering into his ear—_

Needs?

_Theoooooooo—_

No.

 _Panicked, terrified gasps of air_ —

He needs to—

 _Soulless, black eyes, and a freezing touch_ —

He needs to _breathe_.

 

 

( _Theo’s never realized he’s made of glass. He’s always fashioned himself to be iron, strong and unbreakable, unwilling to bend. He knows better, now._ )

 

 

 

 

Theo falls. There’s no one to catch him.

He shatters.

 

 

 

The room spins as his knees give out, colliding painfully against the floor. The pain that spikes up his thighs doesn’t even register because _everything’s too loud_ and _his head’s spinning_ and _why can’t he breathe?_

Theo drops the box, fingers trembling and arms shaking as his eyes begin to sting. It feels like someone’s pushing hard against his throat, against his chest, and _he’s going to die, he’s going to die, he’s going to die_.

Theo’s so, _so afraid_. He doesn’t want to go back, not again, he _can’t do this again, please stop, just stop, just STOP, STOP, STOP—_

He takes in a breath, slow and shaky. Drags his hands up his face, pressing his fingers into his temples as he struggles to take a second. Keeps his eyes trained firmly to the blurry floor as he takes a third, then a fourth. His chest heaves, and his muscles scream, but Theo can finally _breathe_ again.

 

( _There’s still dread though, all-encompassing. Tara’s heart still thumps uneasily in his chest._ )

 

With shaky hands, he closes the box. Pretends there aren’t metallic shards in there, pretends they aren’t pieces that hold Theo’s life in their hands. Pretends that Liam hasn’t hidden this from him, pretends that everything’s okay.

If there’s anything Theo’s good at, it’s pushing everything ( _and everyone_ ) away.

Mechanically, he rises to his feet even as his body screams in protest. Gripping the edge of the table for support when he sways, Theo clumsily puts the box back, and stumbles back. He’s making a stupid decision right now, he knows; he should just take the box with him and stash it away, so that they can’t send him back.

But Theo’s…Theo’s _tired_ of running. He can’t, not anymore. A part of him feels like he might deserve this, even, but he shouldn’t get to be the judge of that.

So, he walks unsteadily back to his room. The door shutting behind him makes an odd sense of finality surge up in him. Like this may be a fitting end. Theo’s so used to stabbing people in the back that it’s really only ironic that he’s going down the same way.

 _Down_ , back to the ground.

Theo crawls into bed, limbs beginning to ache from the cold, and draws the covers around himself. Everything’s silent, _too silent_ , and Theo’s eyes shut in despair as the sheets rub roughly against his tear-stained cheeks.

 

 

Theo’s alone. He’s always been, and always will be.

 

xx

 

Liam doesn’t seem to notice anything’s off.

At dinner, the Beta animatedly gesticulates as he recounts something silly Mason had done that day. Theo, for the most part, just smiles tersely, keeping his eyes firmly affixed to his food. Even though he doesn’t look, he can still _hear_ ; Liam’s pitched, frustrated voice, his mother’s softer, more amused lilt, the doctor’s teasing baritone.

It’s annoying.

 

( _It’s not. It keeps Theo’s mind off things, and he’s grateful for that_.)

 

And… it makes Theo _feel_ something. With every passing moment that Liam’s face remains so open, unguarded, it makes Theo feel irrevocably _dirty_ ; almost… almost _used_. And it’s stupid, it’s weird, Theo doesn’t get why he feels that way— _or why he feels at all_ —and so he looks back at his food, tightening his grip on his knife.

Liam’s obviously going to be relaxed when he’s assured in the knowledge that Theo doesn’t know. Or maybe he _does_ know, maybe he _could_ scent Theo and doesn’t care anyway because what could Theo possibly do? Run away? He’d just get caught by hunters and killed anyway, and Liam’s probably aware of that.

He’s got Theo trapped, and the thought shouldn’t be as surprising as it is.

Liam’s eyes meet his— _Theo doesn’t even remember looking up, much less staring at him_ —and vivid blue transitions from playful to alarmed in the matter of seconds. Theo wants to ask him what’s wrong, whether he’s finally figured it out but—

“Theo! Your hand, it’s—” And Theo looks to where Liam’s pointing and, _oh, that’s funny_ , “It’s bleeding, oh my _god_.”

This catapults everyone into motion to fuss over him, to get napkins or whatever else; and, all the while, Theo just sits there, motionless, staring at his bloodied hand, watching rivers of red dribble down the length of his fingers with empty eyes. It doesn’t hurt.

Nor does it matter.

 

xx

 

“Pack night tonight, you coming?” Liam asks him the next day, lips curved in a hopeful grin that does nothing to move Theo.

 

( _It might’ve, once._ )

 

“No.” He says stonily, intending to pass by Liam quickly enough and slip into his room, but the Beta is having none of it.

Theo stiffens when warm fingers brush against the pulse point in his wrist, as though trying to anchor him there— _and for what_ , Theo wants to scream, _just to send me back ~~to Hell~~?_

He says nothing though, jaw locking as he exhales unevenly through his nose.

“Let go.” His voice is frigid, and it has even Liam blinking in slow shock. “What do you want?”

“I w-was –” Liam looks confused and, maybe, _hurt_? Theo wants to laugh, because Liam’s the _last_ person who gets to feel that way, but he holds back. “You don’t normally say no anymore?”

“Yeah, well.” Theo shuts himself off, pushes away the part of him that aches strangely at the sight of Liam’s downtrodden expression. “I don’t always need to say _yes_ , do I?”

Liam’s face scrunches up, “No, of course not, but—”

“Then we’re done here.” Theo rips his hand free, making his way to his room without a single glance back. Even as every fiber in his being screams at him to look, _look at another person you’ve hurt_ , _Theo, you never change_ , Theo. Doesn’t. Look. Back.

 

 

( _Maybe he’s afraid of what he might see_.)

 

xx

 

Theo finds himself in his truck more often, windows rolled down so the wind whips against his face, slicking through his hair and tousling it back. It doesn’t feel like he’s really breathing, even as air forces itself into his lungs and he wonders; does it really matter? If his dead sister’s just going to claw her way to the surface just to drag him down with her, it doesn’t matter _what_ he does, he’s going to end up right where he started.

His fingers dig into the steering as he grits his teeth, and pushes harder down onto the accelerator. The wind feels like it’s strangling him now, but Theo doesn’t lift his foot off the gas. Static fills his ears, fills his head, with an almost pleasant buzz and everything’s fine— save for the fact he can’t feel his hands or his legs or _anything_.

It’s blissful, until the sound of a police siren slowly creeps in, breaking away the pleasant haze as Theo comes back to himself, even as every part of him _aches_ to say _screw it_ , to let them chase him, lock him up like the beast he is.

But his foot weighs down like lead, and he pulls the car to a reluctant stop. He’s breathing hard as his fingers unclench, and he stares with a morbid fascination at the deep gouges in the leather of the wheel; he didn’t even realize his claws weren’t tucked in.

A hand raps against his window, and Theo sighs exasperatedly as he rolls it down, though the snarky little sentence he’s been waiting to say dies stutteringly in the back of his throat when he sees narrowed green eyes staring at him.

“Sherriff.” Theo says instead, smiling placidly. It feels more plastic than anything else, and the Sherriff seems to notice this too, judging from the irritated scowl darkening his features.

“Theo.” He returns, mouth quirked down. “Care to explain what you’re doing streaking down the roads at…” he checks something, “80 over the speed limit?”

Theo stiffens. He… wasn’t going _that_ fast, was he?

“Well?” Stilinski’s clearly impatient today, though considering he has more important things to tend to than a stupid kid who’s going to die anyway, Theo can’t really fault him. “Nothing to say?”

“My foot slipped.” The smirk that pulls at his lips is more of a habit than anything else. “It won’t happen again.”

He doesn’t waver, staring Stilinski in the eye until the man relents with a drawn-out sigh.

“See that it doesn’t.” Stilinski threatens, and that’s that. Theo only waits till he rolls up the windows and is safely on his way again to let the empty laugh bubble from his throat, to spill into the silence of the truck.

It doesn’t matter. Nothing does anymore.

 

( _He ignores the tremors running down his calves as his foot presses shakily against the pedal because:_

_It. Doesn’t. Matter.)_

 

“Here for Melissa again?” The blonde at the nurse’s station’s never surprised anymore when he sees Theo. He briefly tries to remember his name—was it David? Daniel? Theo isn’t sure—but eventually nods, with a shrug thrown in for measure.

The man’s lips quirk up in an amused grin.

“It’s Nathaniel.” He shakes his head bemusedly, “You forget every time. And Melissa’ll be out in a couple of minutes, so feel free to wait.”

“Thanks.” Theo doesn’t address the first bit; just nods and all but slumps into the uncomfortable chair in the waiting room. Tapping his fingers absently against his knee, Theo figures he might as well look around to pass some time.

There are a couple of kids playing together as their parents slump tiredly in their own uncomfortable chairs, there’s a teenager who’s wrapped up miserably in a swaddle of blankets, a man cradling his arm close to his chest and—

Theo’s eyes widen, and his hand darts up to cover his mouth as it contorts in a silent scream.

She’s smiling at him, an eerie, empty smile that lacks brightness and warmth. Her hair hangs limply about her face as blood dribbles down the side of her neck, spilling into her open chest cavity. Her hand extends out, like she’s reaching for him, and Theo presses back shakily into the back of his seat, feeling so, so small again.

She isn’t moving though, just blinking slowly, _knowingly_ , at him.

He needs a distraction. He needs to – to do something, just so that he doesn’t have to look at her. His trembling fingers pull out his phone, startling and fumbling when it buzzes violently with an incoming call.

 _Liam_.

Of course. Theo snorts bitterly as his thumb hovers uncertainly over the screen. It’s always been Liam. It always will be Liam.

 

( _It started with Liam, so it’s only fitting that it’d end with him as well._ )

 

“What is it?” He answers it, keeps his tone curt. Dedicatedly, he doesn’t look to the corner of the room, where Tara sits in wait. He can tell it throws Liam off, because a few seconds pass by in silence. “Well?”

‘ _Can we…_ ’ Liam’s voice cuts off abruptly, and he’s clearly struggling for words. Theo doesn’t feel very generous today either, so he stays silent. ‘ _We need to talk_.’

His voice is firm, unwavering, and Theo marvels at how he can sound like that when he’s planning to send him back to Hell. Theo’s always thought himself a good judge of character but maybe, this time, he’s wrong.

“Fine.” He says instead of screaming into the phone like he _needs_ to. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours and we’ll… _talk_.”

He hangs up quickly.

He would’ve said he’d be _home_ but, well, he doesn’t have a home anymore, does he? Home’s where you’re supposed to feel comfortable, safe, secure –and Theo feels none of that, not anymore. It’s no home, just the very opposite.

He can’t waste any more time brooding over that, anyway. He’s got other things to do.

“Theo!”

And, speaking of, he sees Melissa walking towards him with a slow-forming grin on her features. Theo always finds himself in awe of how she always exudes _warmth_ when all she’s ever seen is hurt, and pain, and more hurt. Wonders how on earth she could ever direct such a smile at _him_ , a murderer, someone who killed her own flesh and blood.

Melissa McCall is just another person who’s too good for him. Another person who’d be relieved of their proverbial burden when Theo would finally disappear.

 _Soon_.

“What’s wrong?” She must see something on his face, because the concern leaks into her tone. Theo wipes his face clean of emotion, and smirks with soulless eyes.

“Nothing. Here.” He all but shoves the bag he’s been holding into her arms, making her blink in surprise. “Hope you like Chinese.”

“Wow.” She grins wolfishly at him, making Theo’s eyebrows rise in poorly-concealed amusement. “If only my own son did the same…”

“Your son’s in Davis.” Theo drawls out, “I doubt he’d be able to pop in and out for dinner.”

“I know.” She sighs, and Theo inwardly winces when he sees her shoulders droop momentarily; Scott leaving has always bothered her, even though she keeps it under wraps, mostly. Sometimes, it shows—like right now. And, this time, it’s Theo’s fault. “But it’s alright, he’s a grown boy.”

Here, she side-eyes him, making him narrow his eyes challengingly in return.

“So are you, matter of fact.” She peers at him, and Theo vaguely feels like he’s being scrutinized.

“You’d be right about that.” He says slowly, trying to grasp her angle. It always unsettles him a little, how shrewd this woman can be if she puts her mind to it. Unreadable, too.

“Right.” She puts a hand to her hip, staring him down. “Then please, by all means, explain why a grown boy was racing along the roads at breakneck speeds yesterday?”

 _Oh_. Theo groans internally.

“Stilinski told you.” He guesses, and it’s confirmed at her terse nod. “I assure you, it was a mistake and it won’t—”

“Cut the crap, Theo.” She interrupts him, fixing him in place with a Look. Theo isn’t sure when he started letting her boss him around, but it’s become a hard habit to break now. Melissa McCall is a force to be reckoned with, after all. “We adults _do_ talk, you know. Noah was… very concerned about you last night. Said you looked almost feral.”

He did? Theo doesn’t think so, and he lets the displeasure show in his face.

“That’s an over-exaggeration.” He deflects quickly, and nods at the paper bag. “You’ll want to eat that before it gets cold.”

“Theo…” She doesn’t look very pleased—not that Theo’s even surprised, who’d ever be _happy_ because of him anyway—and her free hand settles stubbornly at her hip. “Something’s bothering you, isn’t it?”

Theo inhales sharply—has he always been so easy to read?

“No.” He keeps his answer short, forcing himself into a more relaxed stance even as his muscles tighten in protest. “Look, I figured it’d be thrilling. Wasn’t wrong about that, at least.”

And _fucking shit,_ he didn’t mean to say that last part. Melissa hones in on it, and Theo’s jaw grows tense; he figures he should change the subject while he can.

“You could’ve seriously hurt yourself.” She presses, and Theo snorts derisively.

“I’d heal anyway.” He’d nearly forgotten about that too, but that makes everything better, doesn’t it? He’ll heal, so it’s okay.

 

( _Theo’s starting to wish he_ wouldn’t _, though. Just for a little bit._ )

 

“Theo, whatever _this_ is,” Melissa makes an aborted gesture at him, “It’s hurting you.”

She moves closer, and Theo inhales sharply when she presses a hesitant hand to his arm, because comfort is _nothing_ Theo Raeken deserves. He rips himself away from her, biting back the sob that wants to push itself from his chest, as he stumbles back.

“I need to go, enjoy your dinner.” He doesn’t look at her, even when she calls his name; he just needs to get away, _get away, get away_. He can picture the look of hurt on her face, her eyes swimming with confusion and pain; and, in a sudden moment of clarity, he realizes he hates himself for doing that.

His stomach churns uneasily as he shakily clambers into his truck, breath coming out in painful wheezes. Pressing his forehead against the dash, Theo tries to hold it back: the sudden, strange urge to tear up. Because what does Theo have to be sad about?

Absolutely nothing.

He pulls back, letting his eyes drift shut for a few blissful moments, before snapping them back open. He can’t give himself a break, not now, especially not when—

Theo exhales unevenly. He has a werewolf to talk to.

 

xx

 

Liam’s out on the porch by the time Theo gets there. That, in itself, is a bad sign; it’s like Liam’s trying to make sure Theo _knows_ he’s no longer welcome, like he won’t let Theo run ( _away, like the coward he is_ ) from his fate. He looks to be serious thought, though he’s definitely heard the sound of the motor of Theo’s truck.

Theo’s hands are shaking, and he lets go of the wheel, taking in a deep breath as he feels his claws sink into his palm; lets blood dribble out slowly, ground him. He wipes them off on his jeans, not really having a towel or anything to clean up the mess; besides, it’s not like it’ll matter once he’s back in the ground. He’s filthy, inside and out.

So, Theo’s going to do what he’s always been afraid to. He’s going to stay. Give up the control he’s only just starting to realize he’s probably never had.

“Theo!” Liam calls, like he’s surprised to see him here. Theo almost cracks a smile at that. “We need to talk.”

“Yeah, sure.” He scoffs, not missing the way Liam’s eyebrows twist expressively at the iciness of his tone. “Just do it, then.”

Liam stares at him, mouth parted in silent surprise— _about what?_ Because Theo knows why he’s really here?

“Well?” Theo raises an eyebrow, trying to keep his heart from beating too fast in his chest. No, not his heart, not anymore; Tara’s, once again. Is she still watching him? Theo checks discretely, finding nothing.

“What’re you talking about?” Liam’s beginning to get angry, Theo notices, and figures he might as well poke some more buttons on his way out. There’s nothing better than pissing Liam off.

 

( _that’s a lie too. Everything’s a lie, these days_.)

 

“What, like you don’t know?” He plays it cool, cocking an eyebrow even as everything in him urges him to turn tail and _run_ , _run far, far away_. “I know you like to pretend you’re an imbecile, but you can’t seriously be _that_ stupid.”

A low growl tells him it’s working, that Liam’s starting to get annoyed. Time to fan the flames some more.

“Oh, getting angry now, are you?” His smile turns sharper, more bitter, of its own volition, but Theo clings desperately to it. “That’s all you’re really good at, isn’t it?”

It’s ( _not_ ) easy to pretend that Liam’s eyes don’t cloud over in pain, his face scrunching up in an expression of hurt that shouldn’t ever belong there.

“Why are you doing this?” Liam’s voice comes out thin, _vulnerable_ , and Theo looks away with a careful swallow, trying not to choke on the lump in his throat. “You’re being so… so—!” He makes a strange gesture that Theo’s probably supposed to understand ( _and he does_ ).

“So _what_?” He challenges anyway, because he hates himself.

“Like this!” Liam’s eyebrows draw down, like they always do when he’s angry. Theo feels like he should be happy about bothering him to that extent but he just feels…empty. “Being so standoffish and snappish, it’s not like you!”

Theo’s eyes flash, and the little patience he holds onto slips out of his grasp.

“And what _is_ like me, huh?” He snarls, pushing forward to stare down at Liam. Liam’s eyes flash in return, a glowing yellow, as Theo gets into his space. “More importantly: how the _hell_ would you know? I’m barely even human, aren’t I?”

He doesn’t realize what he’s said until Liam breathes out a shaky ‘ _what?_ ’ that nearly has his knees buckling; but Theo holds strong.

“Just get it over with.” He lets his shoulders slump, head dropping as he grits his teeth. Cold air drafts along his exposed neck and he feels so, so _helpless_ like this, but—

Whatever. He’s been preparing himself for this anyway.

“Get _what_ over with?” Liam sounds furious, as he should be for having to deal with Theo at all. “You keep talking in riddles; how am I supposed to understand what you’re saying if you don’t give me a straight answer!”

“Why are you doing this?” Theo’s throat begins to ache, eyes starting to sting. “Why—?” He breaks off, biting his lip as he struggles to get his emotions in check, _stupid, stupid feelings, he’d rather just not feel at all_.

 

( _Liar._ )

 

“Theo, what’s going on?” And that’s what does him in; the softness in Liam’s tone, the barest brush of his hand against Theo’s arm like he _cares_. Theo’s pathetic.

“The stupid sword!” He shoves Liam away, arms trembling as he catches the slow-forming shock on Liam’s face. “That’s right: I saw it.”

“Theo—” Liam’s voice trembles like he doesn’t know what to say and _huh, isn’t that hilarious_. “That wasn’t meant to… you weren’t supposed to see that—”

“Yeah, I realized.” A strained chuckle rips itself from Theo’s lungs, but there’s nothing to laugh about. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

“No!” Liam blurts out immediately, and that _really_ shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. “I mean—!”

Theo doesn’t realize he’s been backing away till Liam stretches out a hand, and he nearly trips over his feet as he stumbles away from him, from a life back in the ground.

“Theo!” Liam calls out hoarsely, and Theo can’t stay here any longer, he doesn’t want to hear any more, doesn’t want to _hear_ anymore if it means knowing Liam fooled him into thinking someone finally _cares_.

No one cares. Especially not about Theo.

His fingers tremble around the smooth plastic of the car keys as Theo yanks open the door to his truck and clambers in. His head pounds as he frantically turns the ignition, peeling out of the driveway even as he catches sight of Liam trying to give chase.

His foot just pushes down harder.

He doesn’t know how far he drives, intent on just getting out of there, away from him, away from _her, away from it all_. Theo thought he was going to be able to face everything head-on, that he was ready but; surprise, _surprise_.

Some people never change, do they?

He drives his truck into the forest, figuring he might as well settle there. He feels cold, colder than before, even with the sheets drawn up around him late into the night. He’s never felt more alone in his life, and that’s saying something.

He has nowhere else to go though and, besides, who in their right mind would even take him in?

 

( _he thinks of warm brown eyes and a motherly smile, and banishes the thought. It hurts too much._ )

 

Theo figures he can live like this. It wouldn’t be too bad, you know; lying low for a while. No one’s going to come looking for him anyway, so there’s nothing to fear. Except, maybe, that he’ll feel _her_ grip around his ankle, _her_ rotten breath caressing his face and the chilling sight of _her_ heart as she—

No. Not now.

Theo feels disgusting as he packs up his blankets and stores them carefully inside. He’s back to where he’s started, though he really should’ve seen it coming. Theo doesn’t know why he’s decided to do this to himself, to let himself start to _trust_ because that’s the thing. You can’t trust anyone, not when you know they just need the smallest opening to stick a knife in your back, like—

His eyes widen, and he inhales shakily, gripping his forearms with trembling claws. He hasn’t thought about in _years_ , doesn’t want to remember any of it, none of it matters anyway, so _why_? Why does his own mind turn against him like this, drag him down, kicking and screaming?

Theo just…wants to give up. He wants to _stop_ , so, _so much_. He’s tired of running over and over and _over_ again.

But he doesn’t know how to do anything else. And that just makes it all worse. Theo’s not like Scott or Liam or anyone else in the McCall Pack; he’s just a spineless _coward_ who only knows how to hide in the shadows, slip away from trouble. He isn’t made for _teamwork_ or – or _friendship_ or any of those stupid, bullshit excuses, he isn’t—

He isn’t brave.

Theo sees the blood coating the tips of his fingers, digging under his nails, and doesn’t feel a thing. Almost mechanically, he finds a ratty cloth to wipe his arms with, finding apathetically that his arms have already healed. Oh well.

His skin’s starting to prickle, so he tugs off his shirt. It was being constricting anyway, and you might as well get rid of things that hold you back, right? His pants follow next—it’s not like he’ll need them anyway—and his shoes are discarded carelessly into the back of his truck.

He takes one last look at it, his pride and joy, the only thing he’s ever really had to his name. He feels idiotic for pressing a hand against cool metal, for feeling emotional over a goddamn _truck_ when he knows that there’s no room for sentiment, not in Theo’s life. Still, though, he allows himself this much. Soon, he’s going to have to leave.

And that’s what he does.

Sparing one last, mournful glance at his truck, at his old life, Theo lets his chimera loose. It should scare him, how little he feels the distorted motion of his joints transforming, shortening and snapping as he lands on his paws. It doesn’t, though.

He takes in a deep breath. Exhales gently. Sets off.

Theo doesn’t run. He knows there’s no need to, since no one’s going to be looking anyway. Head bowed, he trots off into the woods, knowing from experience that he should probably head east, deeper inland, since the majority of the time, incidents tend to occur towards the west. Theo doesn’t want to get caught up in anything, not when he’s already made himself this vulnerable.

He can do this, though. Theo’s used to living his life on the run as a human, so it shouldn’t be much too different as an animal. In fact, it should be easier; it just means a change in lifestyle; more raw meat, less amenities. Theo can work with that.

 

 

( _His heart still pounds at the thought. He doesn’t stop to consider why_.)

 

xx

 

The first night, Theo isn’t lucky.

As the sky transitions to the usual deep blue, stars slowly blinking into view, Theo finds himself still moving in search of shelter. His muscles scream in protest, not having been used for a long while now, yet he pushes on, something scarily akin to _hope_ lighting in his chest at the thought of getting some shut eye.

As the search progresses, turning out with nothing, the little hope Theo has withers in his chest. It was stupid of his to assume he’d be able to find anything in the first place. Instead, he resigns himself to trot sadly to a nearby tree, curling up near the base of its trunk, keeping his head away from its thick, protruding roots.

The ground is hard, scratchy, and Theo can’t help but let out a whine at the thought of what he’s left behind; for starters, a soft bed, warm, fluffy blankets and a Liam to listen to—

Theo shakes his head—well, to the best of a wolf’s ability anyway—and sets his head down with a short huff of air. Thinking about Liam’s only going to hurt. Thinking about Liam ( _who betrayed him_ ), thinking about Liam ( _whom he trusted_ ), thinking about Liam will only make things harder. And that’s the last thing Theo needs.

Tara is settled against the large trunk of a tree opposite, glassy eyes resting on him. Theo shivers at that, pulling himself into a tight ball almost subconsciously, like it’ll make her leave. Tonight seems… colder, somehow. And a part of him wishes the cold breeze would just carry him away with it.

Now, isn’t that a scary thought?

 

 

( _there are things out there that are much, much worse. Theo knows that. One of them’s sitting right in front of him, after all._ )

 

xx

 

It’s been a rough week. Theo wonders if he must be thinner now; his stomach makes enough of a fuss to hinder him, clenching painfully almost constantly. He should’ve seen that coming, really; there’s no game here. Sure, there are a couple of rabbits here and there; but, that’s hardly enough to sustain a growing wolf. A growing boy. A growing monster.

Even now, he can’t find it in him to move, head slumping uselessly over to the side as he all but collapses on his front, whimpering when the jagged edges of the stones littering the ground graze against the softness of his underbelly. It’s not like he isn’t physically able—no, he can technically keep going—but Theo’s just _exhausted_. Mentally, physically… in all ways. He rues many things, and this is just another regret to add to the growing list. He’s got a reminder following him around anyway.

Tara’s _always_ there, breath rattling from her open chest to taunt him. He’s starting to grow a little apathetic to the sight, at this point.

He lazily stretches out a paw, batting lightly at a small pile of leaves on his right, and watches in fascination as the movement of his forepaw sends the leaves into the air. He tracks them with cool green eyes, watching as they spiral uselessly back to the ground, back where they started.

Just like him, he realizes. Theo’s just like those leaves; hoisted up, boosted into the sky with the hopes of reaching the stars, only to fall back, hurtling to the ground at breakneck speeds and barely being able to brace for this. For impact.

Theo wonders if it’s too late to go back now, tail tucked between his legs. He could… he could beg, maybe? Show them that he can still be useful, that they don’t need to throw him out but—then he remembers, chest growing cold. Of everyone who could’ve possibly threatened to send him back, it was Liam. If _Liam_ , of all people, couldn’t stand having Theo around, how could anybody else?

Theo makes a low noise, throat clogging up painfully. He can’t go back. There’s no way, not unless he wants the ground to open up under him, swallowing him back into Hell. Pulling him back into _her_ embrace.

He still _aches_ , though. Theo’s never been afraid to be alone; in fact, he’s welcomed the thought with open arms. He’s always been the first to push people away, knowing that letting them get too close is just _asking_ for it. For the pain and misfortune, for the heated eyes and angry mouths cursing him, cursing _at_ him, wishing they’d never met—

Theo forces himself to get up on wobbly legs. He’s never thought he’ll know the day that Theo Raeken actually _misses_ someone, though he finds it ironic, really, that the one time he _does_ , they’re unattainable. Well, that and the fact that they want to sentence him to a fate worse than death.

Theo snorts, before he freezes up.

His ears perk as he strains to listen, heart beginning to pound in his chest as he registers the shuffling of footsteps against the forest floor, the sound of muffled grumbles reaching him quite easily. Sometimes, wolf hearing can come in handy. That’s not all, though; he can smell them too, the scent of something acrid in the air— something like gunpowder—which can only mean one thing:

_Hunters._

Theo studiously ignores his primary reflexes, preferring to keep still instead of turning tail. He knows he’s far from what he used to be, even if it’s only really been a week, and he breathes carefully, focusing on tracing the sounds instead. Hopefully, if all goes well, they’ll move towards the river. Then again, when has anything ever gone Theo’s way?

Of course, they’re heading his way instead. Because, obviously, Theo shouldn’t have expected anything else.

Still, though. If there’s anything that Theo needs right now, it’s a distraction. And, well, this is just that, isn’t it? A way to kill time, if nothing else. Still, though, it would make more sense to conserve his strength, wouldn’t it?

Theo continues to keep an ear out, even as his mind yells at him to leave, to run, to get _away_ from the threat. He doesn’t pay it much mind. He’s gotten good at ignoring rationality.

“I was supposed to be off duty today.” Theo startles a little at the sound of hearing _words_ for the first time in days, though he quickly shakes it off. Now’s not the time to marvel at regular life, even with how mundane the conversation seems to be. “Damn it, I lost a date!”

“Like you could score in the first place.” A second voice—so that’s two people confirmed—teases mercilessly, making the first person huff. “As if I’d ever believe _that_. You could tell me pigs fly and I’d still take it—”

“Alright, you two, _enough_.” A thinner voice interrupts severely, and it reminds Theo so much of Corey that it becomes nearly physically impossible to choke back a distressed whine. Corey’s not pack, but he’s the closest to it Theo’s had in a long time. He doesn’t understand why he’s only remembering him now; no, he knows why. It’s Liam. “Stop yapping and keep your eyes out.”

“Alright, alright, you giant piss baby.” One of the hunters sighs mockingly, “We’ll keep an eye out for the little _doggos_.”

“Don’t say that.” The first one sighs, and Theo stiffens at the sound of guns being cocked. “Are you sure they said he was in _this_ part of the woods? You know they never stray from the west.”

Theo stiffens at that, wondering who on earth they could be talking about. It’s…not him, is it? There’s no way. Hunters don’t really know about Theo’s wolf form, so there’s no way they could have identified him in the area; besides, they wouldn’t be interested in the small fry.

“For the last time, _yes_.” The third hunter stresses, understandably frustrated. Honestly, Theo’s frustrated too, and he’s just a bystander. “The two of you never listen to me, do you?”

“Eh, sometimes.” The second voice says loftily, before it turns more serious. “And if that’s the case, we’d better be on our guard, right? Betas are usually more of a handful than Omegas are.”

“Especially the ones with True Alphas.” The third hunter sighs, and Theo stiffens, the implications starting to sink in. “Those are always tough.”

“You say that like you’ve faced _any_ of them in the past.” The first sighs noisily, and Theo personally thinks he’s an idiot for being so loud. So does the third hunter, apparently, since a pained _oof_ sounds out soon after.

“The rest should be here soon.” The second hunter comments, and there’s rustling as he’s undoubtedly adjusting his grip on his gun. Theo strains to sniff at the air, and his gut grows cold at the undeniable scent of wolfsbane. He can’t tell which strain, but just the fact that it’s there is alarming enough.

Well, that, and the fact that it solidifies the thought of _who_ , exactly, they’re hunting. Theo doesn’t like this.

“Find that kid quick.” The third hunter decides quickly, “We just need to stall until the others get here so, for the _love of god_ , be quiet while you’re at it.”

Well. Not if Theo can help it.

Briefly, he wonders why the thought of Liam being hunted bothers him so much when, really, it would just be doing Theo a favor by getting a threat out of the way. Then, he sees the bright blue of Liam’s eyes, fear dancing across them, blood staining his small mouth and staining fabric red – and he remembers why he can’t let this happen. He might’ve been betrayed, but he deserved it. Liam? Not so much. Not at all.

A low snarl builds in his chest as he prepares to launch himself at them, ears twitching as he tries to focus. Their footsteps are getting closer, closer, _closer_ , anytime soon and – _now_.

Theo feels the muscles of his legs tense, but he isn’t moving. Not in the direction he intends anyway. Instead, there are warm hands pressing against his fur, their grip solid on his narrow midsection, and Theo panics, reflexively trying to wriggle out of their grasp. He’s _so sure_ there are only supposed to be three hunters, so where did these hands come from, why didn’t he scent them and how do they know who—?

“ _Stop moving!_ ” A voice hisses, and Theo immediately freezes up, knowing exactly who it belongs to. But… he doesn’t understand. What’s he even doing here?

It takes everything in Theo not to tense up again when he feels himself being shifted, cradled against a warm chest. It’s a little surprising that he’s been picked up so easily; sure, he’s not the biggest wolf around, but he should at least be a _little_ heavy.

Then again, this is Liam. Strong, warm, Liam who smells a little like the earth after it rains, whose scent always manages to keep Theo’s feet planted firmly to the ground—whether he realizes that or not. This is Liam, even if he’s trying to kill him, and Theo hates how he can’t bring himself to run, how he’s always been so _dependent_.

 

( _he would’ve thought it’s all been flushed out of his system, but no. Liam never lets anything rest, even when it’s dead._ )

 

“Yeah, it’s me.” Liam keeps his voice low in a surprising show of tact. His voice grows a little hesitant, “We… I – I messed up, I know but…. We’ll talk about this later?”

Theo huffs and squirms a little more, hoping Liam understands. This is embarrassing, honestly, but it’s not like it’s going to matter much soon.

Luckily, he does. He always does. And that makes it hurt all the more, even though it shouldn’t ( _even though he should be used to it_ ).

As his feet touch the ground once more, Theo tries to get a hold of himself. He can’t dwell on trivial things right now; he needs to _focus_. Liam isn’t allowed to get hurt.

He nudges Liam’s foot, catching the boy’s attention; trotting forward, he hopes he gets the message across. Slow footsteps follow him as he steadily leads Liam away from the hunters _: message received_. If all goes well, Liam should be out of range very soon, and everything will be fine.

Theo still doesn’t understand how Liam got here, though. It doesn’t make sense as to why he’d be on the _opposite_ side of the safe zone, why Liam would come all the way here unless—

Theo freezes, causing Liam to stumble to a confused stop. _Unless Liam was tracking him here_. He’s never met anyone more _idiotic_ than this. If he really wants to send him back to Hell _this bad_ , Theo must’ve been _very_ mistaken.

“Do you think you could change back?” Liam finally whispers, when they start to reach a clearing just by the road. “I… brought a change of clothes for you?”

Theo stops and turns full circle, butting his head gently against Liam’s side in an unmistakable gesture of ‘ _show me_.’ Much to his surprise, Liam isn’t lying; he’s actually gotten Theo some decent clothes. It doesn’t make sense, if he’s just going to send Theo back. Then again, Liam’s always been one for sentimentality. He probably wants to send him off the right way or something.

Liam’s always been a bit of an enigma, that way.

Reluctantly, he bats a paw at Liam’s palms—sending the clothes fluttering down— before he lets himself transform back, the feeling of having _human_ limbs and _human_ fingers and feet with flexible toes after an entire week being… a little jarring, to say in the least. He wonders how Malia managed this, especially after so long living in the wild. He thinks it’s best not to know.

“Dude – oh my god!” Liam makes an embarrassed noise and turns away, making Theo cock an unamused eyebrow even as he shivers. The cold air against his bare skin makes a chill rocket up his spine, but he doesn’t find it in him to care.

“What, never seen someone naked before?”

 _Banter_ , he thinks, a little desperately, _Banter always works. Liam just has to act normal, Liam just has to—_

Oh, who’s he kidding? This is where he’s going to go, where he’s finally going to kick the bucket, in a sense. Liam doesn’t have any obligation to make sure Theo’s _comfortable_ with things. Liam isn’t obliged to do anything.

“Shut up, Theo.” Liam snaps out tersely, and Theo exhales a little shakily because _thank you, something normal_. “And I _have_ , not that it’s any of _your_ business—”

“Oh?” Theo tugs on his pants quickly, followed by his shirt. It’s not super warm or anything, but it’ll do. “If you really thought that, you wouldn’t have answered, would you?”

Pissing Liam off is nice. Comfortable.

“Why’re you so annoying?” Liam mutters petulantly at nothing in particular before saying, loudly, “Are you done yet?”

“Yeah, you’re in the clear.” Theo smiles a smile that doesn’t belong, and stretches a little, joints popping. “No naked men here, sorry to disappoint.”

“Theo, stop being annoying.” Liam frowns at him, and this is familiar, this is… this is something Theo can deal with, even if it hurts. “Honestly, we see each other for ten minutes— _ten minutes!_ —and you _have_ to try and piss me off?”

“Why, Little Wolf, you read my mind!” The nickname burns as it leaves Theo’s tongue. “That’s exactly right.”

Liam scoffs at him, mumbling something about a _piece of shit_ , before he freezes. Noting the sudden fright blooming across Liam’s face, Theo curses softly as he realizes he hasn’t been keeping an ear out, or even scenting the area, so that means—

“Boss, I found them!” A voice yells, and Theo’s eyes quickly dart to where it comes from, body moving on auto-pilot as he crashes into Liam, sending him down onto the asphalt, just as the unmistakable sound of a bullet whizzes pas them overhead.

They’re lucky that there’s a bannister nearby; it hides them from view, even if it limits their view of the woods. Liam pants roughly against his ear, the tiny hitches in breath belaying his true fear, and Theo doesn’t know what comes over him when he squeezes Liam’s wrist comfortingly.

“There were three of them before.” He tells Liam lowly, keeping the werewolf pinned down with his hips, trying not to focus on _warmth, after so long_. “They’ve probably called for backup, by now – they said they were going to, anyway – so there’ll probably be about 5 more? How did you get here?”

Liam shakes his head at the last question.

“I got in through the West,” He confesses, and Theo can hardly believe how _idiotic_ this stupid werewolf really is, “Don’t look at me like that! I had no choice, hunters were patrolling the border on the east!”

“That means there are probably more than just 5.” Theo breathes out, trying to focus. “Alright, the way I see it, we’ll need to fight our way back; there are about…”

He inhales slowly, eyes screwing shut as he picks up heartbeats, scents, sounds—anything that can help.

“I’d say around 4 on the right.” He says slowly, still listening. Liam’s breaths against his neck are slightly distracting, “6…. no, 7, on the left; and more are coming.”

“Oh shit.” Liam whispers tersely, and Theo can _feel_ the thump of his heart against his chest.

“Look, I’ll keep you safe.” He says tacitly. And he means it—it’s not a lie. Theo has no reason to be careful about things anymore, which means it’s okay for him to protect Liam with his _life_ , if need be. Liam will be fine. He will.

 

( _Theo’s heart thuds anyway at the potential drawbacks, the ramifications. What if?_ )

 

“Okay.” Liam says, before his voice grows firm. “But the same goes for you. I’m not going to let you die, Theo.”

And _shit_ , that hits him harder than it should—it has Theo inhaling sharply, mind going blank for a few blessed moments. He shakes his head minutely, then, reminding himself that Liam doesn’t mean it, that he’s just saying things out of habit. He’s always been kinder than he needs to be.

“Alright then, on three.” Theo says, voice neutral, and Liam nods quickly, imperceptibly.

“I’ll take the—”

“Take the right.” Theo interrupts quickly, and sees Liam frown at him. “ _Liam_.”

His tone brokers no arguments, and Liam thankfully recognizes that, mouth still turned down as he reluctantly nods and readies himself.

“Be careful.” He says, just as Theo says, “One.”

“I’m serious.” Liam says. Theo just says, “Two.”

“I’ll kill you myself if you don’t.” Liam finally snaps out, and Theo stutters out the _three_ , eyes going wide as Liam dashes out, while his feet remain firmly rooted to the ground.

 _I’ll kill you myself_ , he says, _don’t the both of them already know that’s what’s going to happen?_

He hears the sound of gunfire, and quickly realizes he’s left Liam on his own, with no one watching his back and _shit_ , that’s Theo’s only job and he can’t even do _that_ right. He forces himself to his feet, launching himself in the direction the scent of the rifles comes from. His mind works on autopilot as his nails lengthen into claws, swiping across arms, and snatching the rifle from one hunter to knock him over the head with it.

“Behind you!” He hears Liam bellow, and he doesn’t need to look, using that same gun to swing inwards, hearing a resounding thud. The gun’s slightly bent out of shape— _oh well_ , Theo doesn’t really have time for that—so he drops it and tackles the next hunter ‘round the middle.

How many does this make again? He isn’t sure, but he doesn’t really have time to think. There’s the sound of a gunshot, but he doesn’t hear anything else—it should be fine.

“You good?” He calls over just in case, in the process of jabbing someone in the throat—hopefully they don’t die from that, Liam’ll have his head—though he frowns when he doesn’t hear an answer.

“Liam?” He asks again, a little worriedly, finally letting himself look in the Beta’s direction.

“Yeah, I’m good.” His voice sounds a little weird, Theo finds, but everything already sounds warped in his head so it’s probably just that. Liam’s back hunches in lightly, as it always does, and the boy lets out a deafening roar—smart thinking—to let the others know where they are so Theo assumes he’s alright. He turns back to his own little crowd, moving through them as quickly as he can so they can get this over with. Everything’s going smoother than expected, really.

But then.

 _But then_.

But _then_ , there’s _another_ shot being fired, and it’s unmistakable—Liam’s soft cry of pain—and Theo turns, slowly, _slowly_ and Liam’s on the ground, Liam’s on his _knees_ , and Theo can see crimson spreading out on his back and it sinks in that Liam’s _bleeding_ , that someone’s _shot_ him and Theo—

Theo loses it.

‘ _You’re barely even human_.’ Scott’s voice tells him, and Theo agrees, eyes flaring a brilliant yellow as he sinks his claws into soft flesh, rips them out in jerky motions, _stops thinking_. It’s easy, and Theo doesn’t have to feel anything—all he has to do is let the bodies fall, let the blood streak his face because _they deserve it, they hurt Liam, they_ deserve _it_.

 _One_ , he sees red, _two_ , they scream, _three_ , blood splatters his cheek, _four, five, six_ and, _don’t they ever stop?_ No matter, though, because _Theo_ doesn’t need to stop, Theo doesn’t need to _think_ , all Theo needs to do is make them bleed, _bleed, bleed and_

 _Die_.

His chest heaves with effort as he brings bloody claws up to his face, strangely numb to the sight. He can’t hear any more heartbeats, save for his own rushing through his ears, and a slow, faint one—undoubtedly Liam’s, and. _Oh._

 _Liam_.

“Theo, w-what—?” And he sounds terrified, as he should, but Theo doesn’t care about all of that, dropping to his knees in front of the Beta to check him over, see where he’s shot. “Theo, wait!”

Theo doesn’t say anything, roughly pulling at Liam’s shirt till the fabric’s soaked with blood—whose, he doesn’t know—trying to get a good look at the wound. Liam’s hands come to weakly grapple with his, pushing them away, and Theo finally meets his eyes.

They’re the same shade of blue that he remembers, only dull and hurt and a little broken but that’s okay, as long as Liam’s _alive_ , nothing matters—

“You killed them.” Liam says shakily, breath stuttering, “Y-You killed them T-Theo.”

He’s pale, shaking, Theo notes. Like he’s seen a ghost.

“I…” Theo’s voice is scratchy, and he pauses, shaking his head like it’ll clear the fog, “What?”

“They’re all dead.” Liam looks close to throwing up, face rapidly paling as he looks at something beyond Theo, “ _Fuck_ , Theo – they’re all _d-dead_.”

And Theo looks back over his shoulder, eyes growing wide as he sees bodies splayed out over the forest floor, blood splashed against tree bark, more draining into the soil and mixing with dirt. He can’t count how many there are, he can’t do _anything_ but just look, and look and _look at what he’s done_. Liam’s terrified breaths haven’t stopped, and it all finally sinks in.

There’s no going back from this.

“No,” He says shakily, because this _wasn’t_ supposed to happen, things aren’t supposed to be like this. He broke Scott’s rule, he broke Liam’s rule, he messed up, he _messed up_. “N-No, I… I _didn’t_ ….”

His cheeks grow ashen, the longer he stares, and his head starts to throb steadily, in time with his heart. He sees the thick curtain of Tara’s hair as she crawls towards the bodies, towards _him_ , to collect her reward. Black drips steadily from her chest over the red stained corpses and Theo realizes she’s here for them too, that he’s sent them _directly_ to her and he’s no better than the rest, he’s—

 

 

( _He’s disgusting._ )

 

 

“Theo?” Liam calls worriedly, but he can’t look away, can’t, can’t, _can’t_. “H-Hey, Theo, look a-at me.”

But Theo _can’t_. Why doesn’t Liam understand?

He can’t breathe, he realizes dimly, as Liam’s clammy fingers press against his cheek, tilting his face to the side so that the Beta can see him. Sharp bursts of air leave his lips, but nothing goes in, not that it matters—Tara’s here, Tara’s _here_ , he can’t go back, not again, _please, please, please no_.

“Theo, look at me.” Liam’s voice sounds strange, but slightly stronger, even though he’s still pale. Theo looks. “ _Fuck._ ”

Theo doesn’t move an inch, painfully aware of _her_ , her slow arrival.

“Your eyes,” Liam says softly, voice breaking again, but Theo can’t hear anything beyond that, can only watch as _she_ comes to a stop before him, pale hands reaching for his throat, “Theo, they’re _blue_.”

She presses down, hard, and Theo crumbles.

 

 

_(He’s just a monster, in the end.)_

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a short fic about Theo finding Kira's sword, misunderstanding, and then making up with Liam. _Uh, guess not_ , says my brain. Damn it.
> 
> Constructive criticism is always welcome! I'm not an experienced angst writer, so any and all help would greatly be appreciated :)
> 
>  
> 
> If you ever wanna yell at me, you can on [tumblr](https://maniacalmidnight.tumblr.com/)!


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